


F.A.S.T. - Firefighter Advanced Survival Techniques

by sabby1



Series: Station 69 AU [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Blood, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Drinking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1
Summary: After a grueling fire call, Hux has to exorcise some demons. Ren obliges.





	F.A.S.T. - Firefighter Advanced Survival Techniques

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Fire Station AU and also a response to the KyluxXoXo Summer Fest Week 3 7/15/18 - 7/22/18 Tic Tac Toe with prompts Hot - Salt - Breath. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Oh, and I love feedback more than I love puppies and kittens, so please consider giving some :).

Armitage Hux is not a lenient man. He expects unquestioning obedience and loyalty from his subordinates. Anything less is a disappointment and an unacceptable affront to his leadership. 

That is why his hands break out in cold sweat inside the thick gloves and his heart hammers in his chest like a pneumatic drill when he screams into his walkie after an unresponsive Kylo Ren. 

“Pull back! That’s an order! I repeat, pull back and evacuate! That’s a direct order!” 

His direct order is directly ignored, going unacknowledged while his heart slams against his ribcage like it’s trying to get out and fly into the building to physically beat the insubordinate man out of there and back to safety.

He stares up into the ominous ashen smoke, willing the creaking support beams to hold out just a few minutes longer. He’s not going to lose a team mate to this monster. He’s not going to lose Ren. He’ll lose his sanity before that happens. 

An explosion blows out the windows on the seventh floor. For a breathless moment the world stops. Ren’s last message came from the fifth floor, going up. 

“Ren.” 

Poe appears from the point of egress in a cloud of ash and embers and jogs toward him to report in. 

Hux wants to scream “two-in and two-fucking-out” but collapsing structures don’t give a fuck about OSHA policy. So he doesn’t. 

Instead, he keeps staring at the plumes of deadly smoke and the red and yellow flames licking out of the windows and calculates and recalculates the amount of oxygen left in Ren’s tank based on standard formulas that don’t mean shit once you’re struggling with unforeseen obstacles inside a burning building.

“Ren, come in.” 

This is the point where you bring in the Rapid Intervention Crew. Except, Ren is part of the fucking RIC and the other part is Poe, who is standing next to him with a fucking abused dog look in his eyes and an oxygen mask pressed to his face. Hux is going to kill him right after he dies if Ren doesn’t make it out of this alive. 

“Ren!”

“We’re coming out now.” Ren’s voice is wrecked and torn, heaven help him if it’s from smoke inhalation. 

Hux’s knees buckle and his fist leaves a dent in the hood of the chief’s Crown Victoria.

When Ren appears from the festering miasma at the base of the building, it’s with Mitaka’s barely conscious weight draped over his shoulder, and a nasty, dark part of Hux wishes the stupid kid had died screaming so Ren didn’t have to go in after him. 

He is not a good man.

“The building is clear,” he announces through gritted teeth.

He doesn’t dare to look at Ren for the rest of their time on the scene.

Back at the station, it takes him less than a minute to rip himself out of his turnout gear, and he disappears into his office with a slam of the door that should by all rights have made the rectangular window pane pop out of its frame and crash on the concrete floor.

His hands are shaking when he pulls out the bottle of bourbon he and Captain Phasma have agreed does not exist in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet behind their shared desk and pours himself a double and then some.

He didn’t lose anyone today. He drinks to that. Phasma won’t have to bury her boy toy. He drinks to that. The fire was contained and extinguished without spreading to a secondary site. He drinks to that. Then he pours himself another and drinks just for the hell of it, because his hands are still shaking and the adrenalin has yet to fucking loosen its grip. 

He’s so far beyond raging they need to come up with a new word for it. 

When Phasma shows up for their shift change, Hux clenches his jaw so hard it creaks.

“Oh, cheer up,” she says, pointedly ignoring the glass of dark amber liquid in his hand. “You look like someone peed on your carpet.” 

It explodes out of him before he can stop himself. 

“That’s because your little bitch almost cost the life of two good men tonight.” His voice isn’t rising, yet, but it’s right there at the back of his throat. 

He’s waiting for it, itching for it, ready to start a fight that can only end bloody because it’s the only way he’ll ever break free of all this rage and adrenalin in his system. 

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that.” Phasma’s voice is tightly controlled like an apex predator in the grip of a shock collar. “Get your shit, go home, and don’t come back until your head is back on straight.” 

Her eyes are bluer than his, and he’s forgotten for a moment how fucking tall and strong Captain Phasma actually is, aside from the fact that she’s his superior. 

“Now!” she barks.

He’s out of his chair before he’s even realized he’s moving.

He doesn’t look at Ren on his way out the door, ignores his name being called after him, barely flinches when his first name drifts through the tinted windows of his Lincoln Navigator, and tears out of the parking lot with squealing tires. 

He has no idea how he makes it home without getting into an accident after two drinks and blind with rage. 

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights in his house and stalks right over to the liquor cabinet for another drink.

Bottle in hand, he retreats into the spare bedroom and releases his anger on the heavy bag he has anchored to the ceiling with a set of D rings that can take 500 pounds of weight without groaning. 

The universe narrows down to the impact of his knuckles on the solid obstacle of sand and cloth. 

An unexpected touch on his shoulder makes him reel around swinging. His fist flies barely an inch in front of Ren’s temple. 

“What the fuck?”

Ren’s stare freezes him in place, and he can’t breathe. It’s like those bottomless brown eyes have sucked all the oxygen from his lungs and are not allowing any more to pass through. Gasping, straining, and clawing at his throat are useless antics, and he’s going to pass out. He’s going to choke, he’s …

“Exhale.”

A huge, burning hand presses against his sternum and pushes, making him involuntarily give up what little air is in his lungs until it comes out in a gigantic whoosh and suddenly he can breathe again, and the rage and the fear and fucking everything comes flying out.

“Asshole!” he screams as his fist flies at Ren’s face and misses by a mile. “Fucking asshole! You could have died in there! You fucking should have! The whole fucking building was coming down around your fucking Dumbo ears and you fucking ignored me giving you a fucking direct order! I’m your fucking superior, so when I give you a fucking order, you fucking listen and you goddamn do what I fucking say no matter fucking what!”

He’s been lunging at and pushing Ren the whole time, but every single blow has missed or glanced off the mark and it makes him furious – furious that he can’t penetrate that thick fucking skull and the invisible fucking armor that makes Ren somehow stupidly think he’s invincible and doesn’t need to follow orders that are meant to protect him. 

“Hold still,” he snarls.

Inexplicably, Ren does. The next blow connects with a sickening dull smack, splitting Ren’s lip and whipping his head to the side.

Hux freezes, remorse like a bucket of ice water crashing over his head. His hands hover uselessly in the air, clenching and unclenching as if they can’t quite grasp either what he’s just done.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, bile running up his throat. “Fuck, Ren.” 

“Are you done?” 

Ren’s voice has an eerie tone that Hux can’t place, and it shifts something cold and dark deep inside him. 

“No.” 

He grabs Ren’s face between his hands, fingers splayed on each side of that stupidly thick skull and pulls him forward. Ren doesn’t close his eyes, but there’s a flinch and his shoulders stiffen like he’s readying for a head-butt. 

The first time they kissed flashes through Hux’s mind and he smirks as his forehead connects with Ren’s, slowly, in a controlled move.

He licks his lips and stares into the wide, calm, dark eyes that mean the fucking world to him, even if he doesn’t know how to say it. 

He has no idea what Ren sees when he looks back at him, but it makes Ren’s breath catch and his shoulders relax from their stiff clench. 

It’s enough to make the words come out.

“I’m your superior,” he growls, “when I give you an order, you obey.” 

Ren takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and slowly, deliberately lowers his gaze. If their foreheads weren’t touching, Hux wouldn’t have known when Ren nods.

“Say it,” he demands. “When I give you an order…” 

“I obey.” Ren’s voice cracks as if it’s been dragged across the coals. 

“Again.”

“I obey.”

“Again.”

“I obey.” 

“On your knees.” 

There is no hesitation this time, just a graceless slide until Ren’s huge frame is on his knees in front of him. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

The muscles in Ren’s biceps bunch as he moves his arms behind his back and grips one wrist with his opposite hand. Hux let’s go of his head, untangling his fingers from the ink-black hair, and unbuckles his belt.

“Open your mouth.”

Ren dutifully obeys, eyes on the floor. His pink tongue lashes out to lick the blood from his lips before they part wide enough to get a good look at his sharp white teeth. 

Hux pulls down the zipper and frees his cock before he places one hand on the crown of Ren’s head, just resting it there.

“Suck it.”

Ren’s agile tongue flicks out again and captures the tip of his cock, drawing it past those lush, pink lips into the slippery hot cavern of his mouth. 

Hux draws a deep breath through his nose. His eyes almost slip closed at the sensation of hard suction and slick pressure from that skilled tongue working him over, but he resists.

It doesn’t take long at all before he’s rock hard.

“Look at me,” he snaps between breaths.

Ren tilts his head back and those beautiful dark eyes roll up to meet his gaze, and it’s almost enough. Hux buries his fingers in Ren’s hair and tightens his grip.

“Open wide.” 

The suction around his dick lets up and he feels Ren’s jawbone move under the heels of his thumbs. He waits out the first hot intake of breath, shoves his dick down Ren’s throat as far as it will go, and holds him there, pressed tightly against his abdomen.

Hux stops breathing and counts the seconds. At thirteen, Ren’s throat convulses around his dick. At eighteen, his pupils start to widen. At twenty-three Ren swallows again. At thirty-one he makes a desperate gagging noise. But he doesn’t move a muscle to pull away. At thirty-five Hux pulls him off. 

Ren sputters and coughs, slobbering all over his dick. Hux lets him suck in a few hungry breaths then forces his cock right back down Ren’s throat. 

This time he holds out forty seconds. Ren’s eyes are watering, but he remains on his knees, arms behind his back, and stares up like he’s daring Hux to do his worst or maybe he’s willingly giving up everything he has to offer. 

Hux hopes it’s the latter. He pulls back and allows Ren to catch his breath before he starts to fuck his face with quick, hard thrusts, taking his pleasure from the messy heat inside that gorgeous mouth and the convulsions of Ren’s throat every time he bottoms out. 

His orgasm comes on like a wildfire. He barely has enough time to grunt out, “Swallow,” before he comes so hard his vision blacks out for a moment. 

The next time he sees clearly, Ren is still on his knees in front of him, staring up. His eyes are wide open and watery, pupils blown out as wide as they will go. There are tear tracks down his cheeks, and he’s breathing through wet, parted lips like it takes effort. 

It’s then the adrenalin decides to drop Hux like a used tissue. His knees give out and he’s down, face to face with Ren, fingers still tangled in his long dark hair. He forgot to let go. 

Ren tastes like salt and copper and come and smoke. It makes him shudder and hold on tighter. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters between their lips, brushing his thumbs over the tear tracks and petting Ren’s hair like that’s going to make up for nearly tearing it out a minute ago. “I’m done. I’m sorry. I’m done.” 

It takes a lot of willpower to remove his hands and clench them on top of his thighs, but he’s done acting like a goddamn sadistic fool and ready to put up with whatever echo is bound to come his way. 

Ren clears his throat, sits back on his ass with a groan, rolls his shoulders, and cracks his neck. Then one enormous hand lands on the back of Hux’s head and jerks him forward until their foreheads are touching and there is less than an inch of space between their eyes. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Hux opens his mouth, lips trembling, one hand clamped around the solid muscle of Ren’s forearm, holding on, as he tries to find the words to explain.

“I mean,” Ren says, his voice scratchy, “I get that you needed it, and I’m okay with everything we did, but I don’t get why. We’ve been through worse than what happened out there today, and you’ve never acted like this.” 

They haven’t. Hux knows for a fact they haven’t, because Ren was never the last man out of the fire. Until today.

“You weren’t this close before.” And maybe there’s more than one meaning in that. “I almost lost you.” 

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Ren scoffs. “Let him burn?” 

“I would let the whole world burn for you.”

He presses his lips together, but it’s too little, too late because the truth is out whether he likes it or not. Hux is not a good man. He’s possessive and fucked up and needs control as much as he needs air to live, and he does not cope well when it’s taken away from him. 

Ren does not pull away. He doesn’t even flinch. He just goes very, very still and looks at Hux for a long, unblinking moment. 

“Okay.” 

Hux laughs, even though it probably sounded more like a sob.

“Okay?”

It’s like he asked Ren to take the trash out or told him they’re having steak for dinner, not that he would literally sacrifice the life of billions to see him safe. 

“Yeah.” 

When Ren kisses him, it feels like he means it. It feels like more than acceptance, it feels like fucking absolution. Hux is not a good man, and Ren is one hundred percent okay with that. 

“Move in with me.” 

It’s not the question he wants to ask, but it’s close enough for now. 

Ren laughs and it makes Hux’s stomach flip. Maybe he’s overestimated the amount of acceptance. 

“Do you even know how to ask a question instead of giving an order?”

Hux goes over the way he phrased it and it occurs to him that it did sound more like an order than a request. He grits his teeth and swallows his pride and goes out on a fucking limb.

“Kylo Ren, would you do me the pleasure of moving in with me?” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Hux freezes. He can feel the nasty, dark side of him coil up, ready to wreak hell in retaliation for the coy rejection. Ren’s hand moves to the nape of his neck and when he tries to move in for a kiss, Hux can’t help but sneer. He doesn’t do consolation prizes.

Ren’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip and tug once before letting go. “Is there room for my bike in your garage next to that battleship you call a car?”

He narrows his eyes, suspicious of the question. He hates being strung along or played for a fool.

“Plenty.”

Ren nods. “Okay.” 

“Okay, what?” 

“Okay, I’ll move in with you.” 

“When?” 

Ren laughs again. This time, the sensation in Hux’s stomach is different. It’s more like the flutter after he’s dead lifted too much weight and dropped it.

“We can get my shit tomorrow. Tonight, we’ve got better things to do than pack and move a bunch of boxes.” 

Hux doesn’t need to ask what they’ll be doing tonight. He can see through the thin fabric of Ren’s uniform pants that his cock is hard, and there’s no question Hux owes him for that blowjob. 

He picks himself up off the floor and holds out a hand to help Ren back on his feet. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

The End


End file.
